


Dance Around In Your Smoke And Flicker Out (Written by Alan)

by SAMC_Inc



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Artist Zayn, College AU, M/M, Writer Niall, Ziall kiss, backstabbing zayn literally kill him, i love zayn, just in here though, zarry - Freeform, zarry is only briefly, ziall drabble, ziall fluff, ziall imagine, ziall sad, ziall short story, ziall though all the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:48:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4472951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SAMC_Inc/pseuds/SAMC_Inc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall's certain he has loved Zayn for far too long</p><p>Or better yet, Zayn's a player that has his best friends heart in his hand, but he doesn't know what to do with it so he ignores the pulsing and sleeps with who he pleases, leaving Niall in the dust to pick up the pieces. But he loves Niall too, definitely</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance Around In Your Smoke And Flicker Out (Written by Alan)

**Author's Note:**

> This one was written by me (Alan) for my pleasure (and this is only half the story but I had to post, it's unfinished)

Somehow, in the crazy mixed up mess that Niall liked to call his life, there was nothing more calming than the soft tap of his fingers gliding across the keys of his laptop, and the lightest hint of Fall to your knees bring on the rapture cascading from the speakers in the corner of Zayn’s dorm. The inescapable warmth of the down duvet that smelled of the dark headed boy caressed the words Niall wanted to type directly out of him, the acrid scent of smoke from Marlboro Reds (Zayn had claimed time and time again that they were the only cigarettes worth smoking) wrapped around him, courtesy of the other life source located on the window sill. Niall tilted his head to the side, catching a glimpse of the older boy curled up on the seat. Zayn’s amber gaze was fastened to a fresh sheet of his sketchbook, lips pulled back to reveal perfectly straightened teeth from which the burning butt hung. He doodled away quietly, tantalizing a drag of the substance every once and again, taking care to blow the excess smoke out the cracked window. Niall bit at the inside of his lip thoughtfully, wondering not so stainlessly how he possessed even an ounce of ability to focus when the harsh jut of Zayn’s jaw or the sinister coil of the ink across his skin was only a handful of feet away

Noticing that the click of typing had disappeared from underneath the melody, Zayn peered up from his drawing, a nervy grin tilting his lips as Niall attempted to pretend like he hadn’t been peering over a second earlier. A cherry blush crept up the side of the blonde’s neck as he stared blankly at the screen, fingers unmoving over the keyboard as he strived to recollect his thoughts. He had little luck though, as every nerve ending in his body was firing off winsome blasts of the same hot sensation gripping at the muscles in his lower abdomen. Niall could feel the older man glaring at the soft planes of his face, and it took another few moments for him to build up the courage to connect his aqua blues with Zayn’s tawny browns. 

“Find something you like Ni?” the older needled, tossing the remnants of his cigarette to the ash tray in front of him. Niall managed an unamused scoff, though the slight release of air more in fondness than exasperation. He didn’t feel the need to wittily offer Zayn a comeback, or respond to the question at all really, because in all truthfulness-

Niall had definitely found something he liked.

Zayn cocked a brow at him, giving his eyes a slight roll before returning his focus to that of his sketched outline. The rough curves of humble biceps and a strapping chest fell beneath the graphite tip of his pencil, the scratch of the charcoal against the page working slowly but surely to unveil that of his desired super hero. It seemed Zayn defaulted back to this a lot, scribbling approximate edges of his favorite comic book characters. Whenever he wasn’t working on a project, or sometimes when he was, he would settle back into the comfort of doodling the things he knew well. And so here he was, listening to the fading hum of the Fallout Boy album, glancing every once and again towards his favorite blonde protagonist to make sure he was getting the details right. Not that he needed to, he had every inch of Niall committed to memory.

“So tell me Peter Parker, how’s that beautiful little bird you’ve been blustering around campus with,” Zayn quipped, letting his hands fall still as he watched Niall’s nimble fingers tap away. One of his hoodies hung loosely against the younger man’s frame, the edges of the sleeves pulled up against strong forearms. Zayn released an uneasy breath of air, turning his gaze instead to the outside world to force his mind away from corrupting thoughts.

“Blaine? She was just my partner for our latest photography project; professor said me and Liam needed a break from each other. Reckon he’s sorta right, between you and Lee I haven’t got proper time to meet new people,” Niall chuckled, shaking his head lightly before typing something else up. The blonde prayed silently that Zayn would just drop the topic. Otherwise he was going to be stuck listening to the older man go on and on about how he needed to put himself out there. That was the thing though; Blaine was nice enough, she smelled like lavender soap and spoke in wordy sentences, but Niall just couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of actually being into her. She was too soft, too supple around the edges. Whenever they were together, she would laugh at things he said that weren’t even the slightest bit funny, and he felt as if that was almost lying. Her eyes were this gorgeous honey brown, but every time he looked for too long, all he think was Zayn. 

And no one should think of their best friend when they’re noticing the way a pretty girl’s hands feel gripping loosely around their wrist.

“That’s a shame,” Zayn hummed, leaning his head against the wall and allowing his eyes to putter closed, “she was pretty fit.”

Niall gave a quiet murmur of acknowledgment, attempting to regain his sequence of thoughts as he eyed the words on the page. He read over the unfinished string of dialogue at least seven times in an attempt to fire his inspiration back into place, but all he could somehow manage to ponder was how Zayn’s eyelashes had looked fanned out against his cheek. And then he was remembering a time not so long ago during a frigidly unwelcoming December morning in a year of which they still clung to the unrevocable innocence that the age of fourteen offered; the time Zayn had coaxed him out into the cold. The older boy had begged for an undesirable amount of time on that frigid day to go out, and after Niall had agreed, he had immediately regretted it. Even through the bundling of a hat-glove combo and a warm coat, the winter air still whipped and tugged at their bare skin. Before he knew where they were going or what they were doing, they were throwing snow at each other in the park located just outside the college campus, escaping all thoughts of reality as they acted like children. The pair used the benches as shields and the fresh powder as their weapons, laughing still as their cheeks grew pink from the wind and their fingers numb from the cold. After a short time elapse, they were collapsed together on one of the benches, shaking hands in the form of a truce as their chests expanded rapidly from heightened breathing. 

Niall would never be sure where it came from, or when the now familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach had decided to stay, but he was pretty sure it had a lot to do with that day. It had much to do with when Zayn kind of stopped breathing, so Niall did the same, and then Zayn was slowly closing the space between them. The younger boy caught only a glimpse, but the way the dark headed boy’s eyelashes clumped together with flecks of white flakes made his heart stutter, and it was all he remembered before a warm mouth enveloped his. From there it was all curious touches of gloved hands, and feverish tongues stipulating a pattern of warmth throughout their chests. It was definitely not Zayn’s first, but it was in fact Niall’s. It hadn’t ever seemed that way though, seeing as how it wasn’t rushed or needy or confusing in the slightest; it was warm and careful, and everything a kiss should feel like when you start to fall in love. Now, two years later, Niall’s stomach tightened at the memory, the familiar pull from below his naval materializing a groan in the back of his throat. 

“What, was it something I said? Do you not think she was fit?” Zayn teased, chuckling lightly as the blonde pushed the heels of his hands against closed lids. The older man bit at the inside of his lip haphazardly, watching the way the fabric of his jumper pulled taut round Niall’s biceps, and the way he left his mouth hanging open slightly as if he needed extra oxygenation. However, between the soft rise and fall of the blonde’s chest, and the way he kept licking at his partially chapped lips, it was Zayn who felt as though he couldn’t take a proper breath in. “So Blaine, she doesn’t happen to be dating anyone does she?”

“Oh my God, calm your dick Tyler Durden, she’s a nice girl with a bright future,” Niall scolded, rolling his eyes as he returned back to his laptop. Fingers typed away at the little black keys, and the younger man’s eyebrows fell furrowed as he grit his teeth together. Niall particularly hated when Zayn got like this, when all he could talk about was his next shag or possible victim. 

“I didn’t ask for a background check, I asked if she was dating anyone. Sometime’s a good girl needs a little roughing up to make her life worth living,” Zayn purred, abandoning his sketchbook for the tug of a cigarette from its container. He placed the rollup between his lips before lighting the end, curling his index and middle finger around the paper to remove it from his lips. Niall wrinkled his nose at the familiar odor, mumbling under his breath about shoving the stick somewhere highly unpleasant.

Zayn let his head fall against the wall as his mind wandered outside, hazel orbs wrapping around the grandeur of the fading light. The sun hung very nearest the earth, kissing everything with a warm orange glow. The trees fell in shadow, and the clouds lit ablaze with shades of rouge and marigold. The crude arc of smoke escaping into the world from the small crack in the window created a brief haze in whichever direction the wind took it, and Zayn almost felt bad for discharging something that even for a fraction of a second distorted the natural artistry of the landscape and the cosmos. But before he knew it, the tobacco had faded along with the remaining light, and Zayn was brought back down to earth to admire his own little sun flare. Niall glowed in the light of a nearby desk lamp, skin illuminated by the unobtrusive bulb. The older man was thrown into a whirlwind of remembering, remembering a time when having the blonde trapped in the confines of his blankets wasn’t an every once and a while event, when having a sleepover or a whispered conversation with nothing but the sheets and a flashlight was an every night kind of deal. But then Zayn was also remembering how they’d both changed so much, how Niall’s innocent blue eyes had leaked tears onto his sheets too many times over the past couple of years to say that at least a few of them weren’t the older man’s fault. There was no way the scrawny ghosts of who they used to be could ever resurface fully, but sometimes through too much reminiscing and a little bit of good music, Zayn could still feel that warm tug towards the younger burning a hole in his chest. 

Like right then for instance, as the melody sunk to an electric buzz and Niall’s ceased typing crowded the silence. 

“If you really want to talk to her I can get you her number,” Niall sighed, sounding much too defeated through the deafening roar of nothing. Zayn even managed to feel bad at that, fully grasping the twinge in his chest as he realized how terrible of a friend he managed to be. And so with that, he slid from the confines of the windowsill and traipsed in the direction of his record collection. He thumbed through quickly, looking for one particular CD, and removed it from the stack it was located in once he’d found it.

“Do you remember this one?” Zayn chuckled quietly, holding it away from the glare of the lamp. Niall squinted to read the lettering, attempting to fight down a smirk as the lewd inscription of The 1975 label came into sight. He blushed at a memory of Zayn coming into the record shop he’d started working at his freshman year at the university, looking for that specific album, a day when the amber eyed man was in between heartbreaks and meaningless relationships. Those were the times when Niall was allowed a glimpse into what Zayn was really like again, let back into the position of best friend with a little something extra on the side. Niall knew that the older man had an exact idea of where the new release was located, but somehow, through an unequivocal stroke of Zayn’s fingers against the inside of his palm, he was wandering from behind the counter and into the stacks. He’d located the piece in a regrettably short amount of time, but the store was empty, and the dark haired man was looking at Niall with a such a fire that it was amazing they even made it to the back room before they’d collided. 

“You left hickeys all over my neck while humming Sex under your breath before buying the damn thing, how could I forget?” Niall teased, taking the moment as Zayn turned his back to wipe the giddy expression from his cheeks. The familiar resonance of She said use your hands and my spare time fell through the speakers, and Niall allowed his eyes to flutter shut as Zayn ate up the space between them in a few brief strides. The older fumbled effortlessly over the top of the blonde, sinking into the bed between the wall and the mass of blanket enveloping the younger. Eyes still closed, Niall was able to inhale the familiar dazzle of Gucci cologne and citrus shampoo, only a slight musk of nicotine shrouding the more pleasant odors. For some reason, the stench of the substance hadn’t been the least bit appalling to the younger for years; maybe it had something to do with the fact that there was nothing Zayn could ever do to appall him, or maybe he’d just grown used to it. Either way, Niall took it in, along with the intimate drawl of Zayn’s fingers against his side and the slightest of hot breath fanning across his chest. The older man curled into his side amply, nose tucking against the crook of the blonde’s neck where his lips brushed as well.

“I miss this,” he admitted quietly, pressing a chaste kiss to the younger’s shoulder. Niall released an anxious sigh, breath shaking as he nodded along. Zayn rested his head sideways against the other’s shoulder in order to glance at the computer screen, the cursor still blinking relentlessly in the middle of an unfinished thought. As if realizing that Zayn was scrutinizing his work, Niall shifted to type the last few words of the sentence, earning a breathy chuckle from the older. 

“Alright Clark Kent, it’s been a while since I’ve heard one of your tall tales, wanna read a bit to me? Or the whole thing, I don’t mind really.”

Niall smirked faintly, head shifting just enough so the he could see down the dark tips of Zayn’s hair to the peak of his nose. An unsure lip was pulled between his teeth as he contemplated this, fingers hovering over the mousepad as he pondered. He sighed in mock defeat as he scrolled to the top of his latest story, fighting down the affectionate putter in his chest. He was painfully aware of Zayn’s fingers curled against his side and the slight burn across his chest from his stubble. Somehow he knew that this wasn’t going to last, that later Zayn would be right back to asking for Blaine’s number, and probably sleeping with her sometime in the week. So he didn’t think about it; instead he thought about the tragedy of his own hero’s loss, and the fact that his main character was strangely similar to Zayn, and how hoped that the older wouldn’t catch the coincidence of this. And maybe he was thinking a little bit about how Zayn had always reminded him of Gatsby, and when Zayn had read the fantastical novel he’d compared Niall to Caraway. Then he was pondering the whacked out conspiracy that the two classic characters had been in love. But Gatsby was just a fantastic idiot who smoked too much and thought too little of others, and Caraway was stupid enough to follow along the undesirable path. And so Niall read through the story, trying hard not to compare Zayn to anything but the real life version of himself, because if he were fiction, and their lives were a plot, Niall wouldn’t feel so laughably heartbroken all of the time.

**********

There’s just something about the way a piping coffee feels tingling against his palm as the brisk autumn wind whips at his face that makes Niall feel as if his entire being is smiling from ear to ear. The effect of the latte and the cool breeze of the impending season was always heightened when he threw Liam into the mix. The brunette was a little ball of sunshine dust on his own, radiating spurts of energy and good vibes wherever he went. This probably had a little something to do with the fact that Liam was a solid eleven on the stunning scale, and wasn’t afraid to be constantly flashing his killer smile at any one that mustered a glance in his direction. It also had a lot of something to with the fact that Liam was in possession of quite possibly the biggest heart of any human Niall had ever met. This was why the younger man had chosen the other as his roommate, and it was also why they’d become such fast friends. Liam was easy to be around, and more than easy to talk to. Not to mention the kid was obscenely understanding, which turned out to be convenient considering Niall’s life was one big ‘I can explain’.

The pair were walking down the center of campus with coffees in hand, Liam with their camera bag slung over one shoulder, battling the oncoming chap of his lips with a feverish tongue running ramped patterns across their fullness-and Niall with their other supplies ensnared in a book-style pack, attempting to tame the constant whipping of his unsettled hair with a few flicks of his wrist. They were bound for the fountain centered in the middle of the college community with the intention of getting a head start on their newest photography project. It was no big surprise that Niall had been a little more than ecstatic once he’d finished the previous series with Blaine; not that she wasn’t nice or anything, but it was so much easier on the blonde to work with Liam in this class specifically. It was almost like, if the younger man had a vision, the brunette could capture it with ease, which saved a lot of time and kept Niall from banging his head against a wall. It was a special thing they had going, and the only explanation for it, or as they’d been trying to convince everyone else for what seemed to be a lifetime-

(Because that’s what it felt like with Liam, a lifetime of friendship that was so comfortable it filled some sort of hole that threatened to split Niall’s chest every once and again)

Was that they could read each others minds. And they could, or at least Liam could. Though Niall never really had been any good about hiding his feelings.

“What did we decide the focus was for this project?” Niall questioned, humming as the warmth of the coffee zipped across his tongue and down his throat. He had to refrain from sighing as it fanned out through his chest, heating his insides at a delightful rate.

“We were torn between the beauty of mental instability and how it affects the human body in such a fantastic way, and people’s passions,” Liam explained, clearly emphasizing the first choice in his speaking. The pair of them had argued over ideas for an entire class period a few days prior. They somehow were able to narrow it down to just two choices, and a very split opinion. Liam was all for photographing the more emotional side of people’s lives, while Niall preferred to showcase work that dealt with physical things. It was never anything more than lighthearted bickering as they both understood either idea would turn out fantastically, the heated discussions were filed more under the category of pride and stubborn thinking that their idea would work the best.

As both boys continued to place their opinions about each theme onto the table, they’d managed to wander towards the center of campus, the rushing sound of the fountain only a few paces away. An array of students roamed the area, some studying, others simply horsing around with there friends. There was a more obnoxious group of kids towards the edge of the courtyard acting out what looked to be a play about a murder, and on the opposite side was a single girl staring blankly at her laptop screen, glaring at anyone who came within a five foot radius. There were a couple of other people straggling around the fountain itself, mainly those unlucky relationship goers with their significant other, seated around the edge of the water feature and blinking towards one another as if their were stars scattered across their skin. Something more than a little out of place fell into Liam’s line of vision. This something was a flash of white teeth, a peak of inkings beneath a sweater sleeve as it reached up to comb its fingers through its jet black hair, and a sinister hazel gaze that was going to be the reason Niall fell apart in a few seconds if spotted. With a widening gape of his jaw in the general direction of the problem, Liam had decided maybe the fountain wasn’t the best place for them to be working at that moment. 

“There are a lot of people here Ni, maybe we should find somewhere else to start plotting this,” Liam offered, managing to take a few suggesting steps in the opposite direction. Partly because the statement held no truth, and partly because Liam was quite possibly one of the worst people at acting casual he’d ever met, Niall turned over his shoulder and began looking a bit closer at the scene before him. He didn’t understand the need for the momentary panic, as he glared on with eyebrows furrowed, all he could see that was nearby was a gay couple interlocking fingers and pointing towards clouds with their conjoined hands, a group of girls giggling too loudly about something one of the louder ones had said, and some blonde Niall had never seen, tucking her hair behind her ear while she obviously flirted with-

Oh.

Zayn sat neatly behind the petite girl, his signature smirk sewn to his lips as he looked her over. He nodded as if he was intrigued by whatever she was saying, but Niall would bet he was more interested in getting her back to his dorm. The younger man attempted to ignore the freight train sensation that impaled him in the chest, and hoped to God that Liam hadn’t noticed as he’d taken a few staggering stumbles backwards. He wasn't sure why this had come as such a shock, perhaps because Zayn had regrettably forgotten to mention any new girl, but then again when did he ever feel the need to fill Niall in on his life? It was then that the blonde remembered how this whole process worked, how he was pushed to the back burner while Zayn tried out a new main course. Why on earth would the raven headed man feel the need to tell his best friend who he was sleeping with? The correct answer was, he wouldn’t, because this was Zayn and Niall, not Luke Skywalker and Han Solo.

This was Niall’s life, which meant nothing was allowed to make logical sense.

“You okay?” Liam questioned, wrapping comforting finger around the small circumference of Niall’s wrist. The blonde nodded absentmindedly, attempting once again to ignore the stabbing pain against his ribcage as he watched Zayn run a few nimble fingers against the girl’s leg. He didn’t know why this hurt so much, it’s not like Niall actually thought he mattered to the other man. He knew he never had, not really, not fully; and he never would-

Not to Zayn.

“I don’t think the fountain is going to work today,” Niall murmured, tearing his eyes away from the scene in front of him. Somehow he knew that eventually Zayn was going to look up, and he didn’t think he could mentally handle the nonchalant nod the older man would toss his direction. The slight tilt of his chin would’ve sent Niall spiraling downwards; either that, or he was not going to be able to squelch the urge of pushing Zayn into the fountain.

“How ‘bout our room then? I’ll make us some popcorn and we can watch movies for the rest of the day,” Liam offered, already beginning to tug Niall away, “Maybe we’ll get some inspiration or something; the project can wait.”

Niall had to laugh a little after agreeing, because movies were literally the answer to everything with him. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that films offered the facade of a possibly perfect world, one where if your best friend goes behind your back, you make up in the end, or if the boy you happen to be hopelessly in love with doesn’t love you back, there’s some sort of life changing alteration that takes place, and suddenly your outlook on life has taken a sharp 360. But Niall didn’t feel changed at all. In fact, as he crawled into the comfort of his bundle of blankets and clutched to the soft feel of a beanie he’d snatched from Zayn a few days ago to his cheek, Niall felt like the exact same scrawny, helpless little kid he’d been a few years ago when him and the dark headed boy first met. 

He’d never forget it, even if he wanted to, and there were some days that he honestly did. It was freshman year, third period, the class they both went to after scarfing down whatever disgusting concoction the lunch ladies deemed edible for the day: art class. It was no secret that Niall had the same artistic abilities as a disabled monkey, but as the class was required, and because he was willing to try just about anything, he’d signed up for the elective right away. Somewhere in the back of his mind he’d kicked himself once he’d walked in the first day, the room being filled with twenty people he had never seen before. Disheartened, and a bit more nervous, Niall shoved his head down to avoid eye contact with anyone, digging his chin against his chest as he fumbled to the nearest empty desk. With an abundantly unconfident gaze towards his left side, the blonde noticed the presence of what looked to be a senior, dressed in a jersey for the game later that night. With an even more timid look towards the right, Niall gathered in the sight of an equally nervous boy who looked to be just a bit older than him. After staring for an indecent amount of time at the contours of the other boy’s features and the earring puncturing his lobes, the dark headed boy opened his mouth to mumble a hello.

It had been then that Niall realized younger Zayn was blushing up at him, hardly being able to hold eye contact without getting flustered, so he’d smiled encouragingly back and greeted the other boy as well. From there, they didn’t really talk, not until Niall had gotten so unreasonably frustrated during the painting unit that Zayn had leaned over to help, laughing to himself of course. Niall realized how talented Zayn really was at this, and began asking the older boy to teach him more often. Soon their work time in class was spent sparking up innocent conversation, things like how Niall was planning on trying out for soccer and how Zayn would love to come watch, or how the dark headed boy wanted to buy his own house someday to spray paint the walls. There was a lot of giggling, and many warnings from the teacher to focus on their work. It had all been so stainless back then, and maybe Niall wasn’t as doe eyed now, and maybe he was more than a little less pure, but other than that, he was still making the same stupid mistakes. He was still letting his own personal bad guy capture him with an unexpected kiss or a mumbled request; he was still falling head over heels for the antagonist of the story. Niall was just under the impression that maybe if the antagonist really cared about the protagonist, he’d want to change. This didn’t seem to be the case however, and all of this crowded his mind about fifteen minutes in to The Dark Knight. 

And then he was crying profusely into his mattress, and into the hat that still smelled so much like Zayn it burned his nostrils. Then Liam was taking quiet steps across the room because they’d been here before, Liam just knew that now wasn’t the time to ask questions because, again, they’d been here before. The brunette knew that this would pass, he knew just as well as Niall that by tomorrow he’d be right back to square one, so he let the younger boy cry. Just like the good friend he’d always been, he cuddled down next to Niall, holding his shaking shoulders and cradling his head against the broad expanse of his chest. The blonde cried extensively; he cried for himself, and he cried for Zayn, but mostly he cried for Bruce Wayne because he’d never had the privilege of knowing what it feels like to be so in love that you can’t hardly breathe right. This, somehow, seemed the saddest of all, and between the sound of Alfred saying som’thing about men wanting to watch the world burn and the Gucci cologne invading his airways, Niall swore this would be the last time. No more tears, no more gut wrenching aches of the heart, no more worthless hours spent hoping for something that was never going to happen-

No more Zayn.

**********

It’s funny how hostile a door looks when you’re standing on the wrong side of it, or maybe the unsure ache was just Zayn trying to muster up the courage to rap his knuckles across the wood of Niall’s dorm room entryway. He honestly knew deep down that the door would be unlocked, it always was whenever Zayn announced he’d be stopping by, and even sometimes when he didn’t and the blonde was just being hopeful. But this time, he felt strangely out of place, and he had this unnerving thought that maybe confronting the younger man about his two week silent streak wasn’t going to end well.

Niall had ignored all text messages, phone calls, and all other forms of attempted communication from the amber eyed man for fourteen days. Zayn had been worried from the start, but it wasn’t until that morning when he’d less than asked but more than hinted at Liam as to where the blonde was that he really felt his insides doing somersaults. 

“Liam,” Zayn had called, taking the moment of the younger man turning around to begin jogging towards the brunette, “long time no see kid, how’ve you been?”

“Fine,” the other quipped, keeping his answer short and his body tense in a way that read ‘I really don’t like you’, “is there something I can help you with?”

Zayn had opened his mouth to ask about Niall, in fact he’d planned this whole thing out in his head. He was going to ask the blonde’s roommate why the fuck Niall had fallen off the face of the planet, but judging by the hostility in Liam’s coffee colored gaze and the furrow of his brow, it hadn’t seemed like such a good idea at the time.

“I’m just, I guess, well, is Niall alright? Like, he’s not dead is he?” Zayn stuttered, shoving his hands deeply into his pockets to keep from sounding like he cared too much. Liam looked like he’d softened, like maybe he knew that Zayn was genuinely concerned, but he held his ground from there.

“I guess if he wanted you to know he’d have responded to you, yeh? Have a good day Zayn.”

And then Liam was walking off, leaving the older man behind with an unspoken ‘I care too much to give up on this’ hanging from his lips where a cigarette should’ve been. Zayn was only capable of alleviating problem number two, and after a couple of puffs from the nicotine stick filling his lungs, and a rushed concoction of confidence and aggravated persistence, Zayn was tugging his phone from his pocket and typing a message to the only person he ever bothered to text.

I’m coming over in a bit, we need to talk.

But that had been previously in the day, and now it was at the awkward point between eight and nine o’clock when it was too early to say it’s late, but too late to say it’s early, and Zayn tried not to make the excuse of wanting to know what the sun looked like dipping into the horizon to escape from his current breath taking moment. Because that’s all this was, a breath taking moment; though the raven haired man was seventy-nine percent sure that a sunset wouldn't feel this much like a brick colliding with his sternum. 

Realizing that if he waited any longer it would eventually become late, and then it would become too late, or perhaps before then the jolt in his chest would swallow him whole-realizing all of these were bound to happen if he didn’t touch the blonde within the next forty-two seconds, Zayn was knocking haphazardly on the door moments later. There was no response from inside, and the amber eyed man began to wonder if fourteen days was too long of a time to overthink things when there was the quiet sound of bare feet thumping against the floor. Zayn quickly ran his fingers through his unruly locks, a gesture he’d taken to whenever he grew that more-than-anxious-less-than-terrified feeling in his stomach. His hand fell back to his side as the door swung inward, and he found himself inhaling all too sharply as Niall’s carefree gaze ran laps across his frame. He tried to ignore the tell tale knots in his stomach and the slightly obvious shakes of his hands, all because Niall was like a breath of fresh smoke on a cool winter day-

Harmful to the lungs, but oh so invigorating to the senses.

The first thing Zayn seemed to notice as he took a few steps into the space was the undeniable smell of Niall’s cologne, partnered with a blasting of Panic! At The Disco. The cologne meant the blonde had been trying to rid everything of a scent that belonged to Zayn, it seemed to cloud anything that had to do with Niall-

(and Zayn had to avoid admitting out loud that it made him feel only slightly that Niall was kind of his)

And the music was something the younger only listened to when he was inspired or brooding. Granted it could’ve been the first option due to the fact that Niall was already lodged back into his rightful place between the corner of his bed and the wall typing furiously at the keys of his laptop, Zayn instead assumed it was the latter as his sweatshirt were tossed aimlessly across a desk chair. The sight of the familiar fabric strewn away from its usual spot covering Niall’s frame or tucked somewhere in the chasms of the blonde man’s bed knocked the wind out of the older, and he had to refrain from picking it up and pressing it to his nose to see just how long it had been since the Irish bloke had worn it. 

He was here to talk, and he couldn’t do that while fighting off tears of remorse.

“Hey,” Zayn muttered, sounding somewhere between angry and abundantly unconfident. He cleared his throat harshly to rid the sting at the back of his throat, but he left his eyes on Niall because he wanted to feel this. 

“Hello,” the other responded, never ceasing the movement of his fingers across the keyboard. He wouldn’t even look up, and Zayn had to remind himself not to start screaming. He wasn’t sure when he’d started feeling like this, like he need the attention of the blonde to function properly. But maybe it wasn’t the lack attention that was the problem, maybe it was just the fact that Zayn knew Niall was cross with him.

“Any specific reason you’ve decided to cut off any contact with me?” Zayn questioned. He wanted to sound hostile, but he ended up sounding more like a disheartened teenager-seconds away from begging, or pleading, or really anything else just to have his best friend back.

Zayn was not a sappy, or albeit, predictable teenager wallowing in lack of self efficacy.

The older man tried not to seem too defeated at the scoff that fell from Niall’s parted lips, tried not to let the roll of the other’s aqua blues cut ridges into the important components of his chest. This was just Niall, his best mate, his lifeline, the one he could come back to whenever he needed. And yeah, maybe Zayn had realized somewhere around senior year of high school that his and Niall’s relationship was more than a little twisted-

(this had something to with the fact that Zayn had caught the blonde sobbing recklessly into his hands, hips pressed distractingly against a bathroom counter in the middle of his own graduation party. That in itself probably had to do with Zayn showing up to the gathering attached to his latest play thing. He had been convinced that Niall wasn't bothered until he caught the younger, and he began hurriedly wiping away the paths the tears had left behind at the sound of Zayn clearing his throat. Maybe it was then that the older man realized how many times he’d broken that kid’s heart-

And how many more times it was bound to happen-

And how that for some reason started a slow, destructive burn in his lungs.)

But anyway, regardless of how relentlessly Niall fell for Zayn, or how easy it was for the older to press his lips into somebody else’s neck because Niall was a basket of feelings he wasn’t ever going to be ready to face, they always seemed to collapse back together. This, of course, was after the blonde tried to rid himself of the older man once and for all, eventually realizing that it’s more depressing to live without Zayn than it is to survive under their current conditions. But this felt extremely different. The distance between them in the crammed dorm room felt too full of hostility and bitterness for Zayn to swim closer, which was more than difficult when they were both drowning in a heavy dose of unwantedness.

“What do you want from me Zayn, an apology? Because if that’s the case I wouldn’t be holding your breath,” Niall spat, fingers still moving furiously across the keys of his computer. For a second Zayn wondered what the blonde was typing, wondered what it was for-

Wondered what he was really thinking right now.

“Don’t want anything from you Ni, I just,” Zayn breathed a laugh, running his fingers through his messily assembled top knot as he tried to stomach the words on his tongue, “I just d’know what to do with myself when you get like this.”

The sound of typing finally ceased, but Niall’s aquamarine stare clung helplessly to the lines typed across his screen. He gathered his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on it quietly as he tried to make his sigh of disdain less than obvious. Zayn had his attention, but there were so many things the older felt needed to be said that he ended up standing with his lips parted. The blonde eventually allowed his eyes a single flutter in Zayn’s general direction, finding something amusing in the older man’s speechless stance and the inexperienced rise and fall of his chest. Niall somehow knew what the other was leaving unsaid, it was all in the way his copper gaze swung longingly to the fabric of his sweatshirt flung across the nearby chair, and the way he continuously fiddled with the ring on his middle finger. A ring Niall had given him so many years ago, some stupid birthday present his mom had suggested. Zayn’s bore the blonde’s initials, and Niall’s was engraved with the other’s. The fact that Zayn still wore his held some sort of sentiment, and it made Niall’s heart give an impatient stutter as if to say what are you still sitting for?

“Where’s that blonde girl you’ve been floating around with? Surely she’ll be wanting you on a Saturday evening,” Niall spoke, shifting his laptop onto the mattress and slipping cautiously from the confines of his blankets. 

“Nikki broke up with me a few days ago, said I wasn’t what she needed or some shit like that,” Zayn snorted, running a thumb across the edge of his nose, and Niall knew there was more to the story. He knew that the poor girl had probably realized how incapable of loving her Zayn really was; now whether this was because the amber eyed man was incapable of the deep feeling all together, or perhaps (and Niall’s heart sings at the perhaps) he’s just too caught up in his feelings for someone else no one may ever know. But Niall is pretty sure, or at least he thinks he is as he takes wary steps in Zayn’s direction, watching as his best friend tries to pretend like he’s too big and bad for the world, he’s pretty sure the answer is far from the first option.

“Do you ever get tired of this?” Niall asked, tugging the thick black frames Zayn was sporting from his face because he wanted to look at him, “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to finally be with someone that felt right to you?”

“Someone like you?”

Niall gave a brief shrug, a look at the ground, and a breath of a step closer to the older. And then Zayn was doing that thing that Niall loved a little too much, retreating into himself just far enough that the blonde could still see the contemplation on his face, but was unable to understand what was really going on inside of Zayn’s head. It was this kind of game; like Zayn was Magneto, and yeah he was really good at hiding behind his helmet, but as Professor X, somehow Niall was always able to understand what Zayn wasn’t saying. And the older man was scrunching his nose as Niall pressed a couple of scratching fingers against his chest.

“Someone you could love,” Niall offered, trying not to sound too obvious as his fingers slid a pattern they’d had been memorizing for what felt like an eternity. A slow path up the curves of Zayn’s shoulders to lay dangerously around his neck, and somehow the older man’s hands had found their way around Niall’s waist, and they were settled just beneath the hem of the blonde’s t-shirt.

“I’m complete crap at love you know,” he muttered, drawing shaky breaths from the younger as the breadth of his hands spread across the entirety of Niall’s lower back. He unknowingly drew them closer, their noses brushing as they breathed in each other’s space.

“Maybe just someone who can love you then,” Niall offered, attempting to keep his heart from leaping out of his chest, “someone to show you what intimacy feels like when it’s racing across your skin.”

With a hum from Zayn, a mere acknowledgment that maybe the idea wasn’t entirely bad (and perhaps a thought of damn Niall for being a writer and having such an enticing way with words), their lips were slotting together just like Niall swore they were meant to. Chests brushing, tongues twisting, and eyelids fluttered closed, both boys allowed themselves to be engulfed by the flame of familiarity. Not that Zayn would ever mutter the thought allowed, but there was just something about the way the contraction of the blonde’s muscles felt beneath his hands, and the overzealous allure of Niall’s breathy moans hung against his lips that made him want to crawl between the gaps in the younger man’s life and nestle himself there for half of an infinity, or maybe even all of it. Niall tasted like what Zayn wanted to call home, but the moment the older felt like he was falling too fast into his own pool of emotions, he was tugging his lips away from the younger man’s, using the excuse of shirt removal to allow himself a second of uncontaminated air. That’s all Niall was to Zayn, his Poison Ivy, his weakness that had him wrapped around a pretty little finger-

And this was why the elder felt the need to sprint far, far away.

As Zayn’s chest began to feel more and more trapped by the indescribable sensation of Niall licking his way up the edge of his jaw, more and more articles of clothing were removed. It was all moving so blindingly fast that the older man hadn’t even realized they were left in nothing but briefs and anxious fingers until Niall placed a firm hand against his chest.

“We can’t do this,” he stated, the pleadingness in his tone striking Zayn to his core. The wobble of Niall’s voice was so obvious, so fragile, that Zayn had to remember that Niall was still so pure. Minus a couple of heated kisses, a blowjob given one drunken night, a blowjob received the once Zayn had gotten the younger high, and a lot of heavy petting, Niall was as innocent as a daisy clinging to the earth in the spring. Zayn hadn’t any right to continue on, but he’d be lying to himself and anyone asking if he said he hadn’t daydreamed about this, about being so close to nudity that he could practically taste the sex on his tongue. Fantasizing about Niall groaning out his name was only half of the problem, imagining that the aching curl of the blonde’s toes and the sheen of sweat that would coat them both was more related to love than lust was the rest of the issue.

Zayn couldn’t even say the word love out loud to anyone but his mother, much less make it an action.

So for the sake of himself, and because he had no interest in losing whatever this was between him and the younger man, he ceased the relentless attacks of teeth and nails and everything he wanted to do with the blonde. And somehow they ended up curled together in the middle of the bed, covers pushed haphazardly around their waists as they buried themselves further into each other to sustain body heat. Niall for some reason was continuously fighting back a flood of tears, and maybe it had something to do with the fact that the voice in the back of his mind kept chanting this won’t last while his heart puttered an enjoy it while you can. All the while Zayn was trying to form the words I love you with a maybe shoved somewhere in the statement, but he couldn’t quite get the syllables right in his mouth or convince his ribcage that it would be okay to allow someone in. So he just laid there, dragging his fingers across the divots in Niall’s spine until he no longer felt the need to run.


End file.
